The Bee

I was a busy bee, buzzing through the garden, 

Who had no idea the flowers were watching me, 

Wanting me to explore their pistils.

They were all so alluring, each colorful petal, 

Strung out on the bushes like Christmas lights 

Waiting to be turned on by my fluttering wings. 

I never approached one, not for the life of me, 

For I had a vague sense that their beauty 

Would steal my soul, eat me alive, destroy me. 

Until one day, I saw the prettiest of them all, 

A golden spiral of loveliness calling at me,  

Emanating a scent so strong that it froze my mind, 

Hijacked my will, diverted my purpose. 

As I flew close to my one true flower, it sucked me 

Into oblivion, squeezed out my breath, 

Tossed me into a vicious storm of self-doubt, 

Making me aware that beauty had tricked me. 

She closed her calyx on me, wrapping me 

Inside, where it’s warm but dark as a prison, 

Courting me with her ultimatum: pollinate or die.